The Epitome of Evil
by gaki 0
Summary: Vegeta always thought the woman's mother was frightening, but one night he gets a true taste of her evil abilities as she offers him a delicious, red drink.


This was originally a very short drabble for Maddie-san's live journal "red" challenge.

Disclaimer: don't own any of these characters.

* * *

**The Epitome of Evil**

Vegeta slammed his hand down on the big red button, allowing the center console to carry his bulky weight. He exhaled a breath he did not know he was holding as the pressure in the room returned to normal. Training two days straight always seemed like a good idea on day one, but by day two he was exhausted and hungry. His stomach felt like a cold empty cavern, and it retaliated against his body by flipping over repeatedly. His muscle ached, but he received pleasure from the invigorating feeling that rippled through his tense body. Standing up straight, he took decisive yet cautious steps towards the exit.

The warm summer air blasted him in the face as he continued his trek towards the Capsule Corporation kitchen. Through the window, he saw the older woman of the household puttering about the room. He stopped short of the entrance to the building, staring through the window in hopes that the deranged woman would leave the food containing area. Unfortunately, she continued her occupation of the room, and to his dismay, she started waving frantically out of the window towards her favorite guest. He braced himself for the inevitable and made his way to the obnoxiously happy woman.

When Bunny saw him walking towards the kitchen, she immediately started preparing food for the handsome Saiyan. Humming cheerfully to herself as she placed the plates in the four-tier microwave. Just as she pressed the appropriate buttons to heat the food, she turned around to see the sulking man enter to room. She trotted lightly to the man, put an arm in his and began, "You must be hungry." She amorously stared at the outraged Saiyan as he took a wary step away from her. A small amount of fear crept into his eyes, but before it overtook him, she bounced over to the table and poured a red drink into a tall skinny glass. "You must be thirsty, too. Strong men working out in the heat …" Her words tripped on themselves as she pictured her young guest sweating in the exhausting heat. The woman than turned to her companion, started fanning herself with her hand and said, "Oh" She then reached out with her other hand giving the drink to the strapping man before her, "here's a strawberry daiquiri, sweet boy."

He grimaced at the pet name she had developed for him, but grabbed the drink none-the-less. He gulped down the barely frozen drink in one fell swoop. The liquid slid down his throat in a cooling sensation which rushed throughout his entire body. The sweet taste lingered in his mouth, reminiscent of some inaccessible treat. He tried to place the recollection of strawberries in his mind, and as he pondered, Bunny filled his glass again. He absentmindedly drank in large gulps from the glass in his hands and took a seat in his normal mealtime routine. A dinging from across the room snapped him out of his thoughts, and he watched as the older woman retrieved his food from the heating device. He ate his food quickly and neatly, drinking from his glass as he felt his thirst increase.

Bunny sat across from him, and placing a pitcher full of the red liquid between them, she began to release a constant stream of words from her lips. Vegeta ignored the talkative woman, only comprehending a small amount of the words that originated from the woman. "Grandmother" and "handsome" were a few of the words, but he chose to not connect their relevance. When the level of liquid in his glass lowered, she filled it again. As time passed the pitcher could be found empty and Vegeta had begun to be unable to think correctly.

* * *

Hunched over a dismantled training bot in a distinct concentration that she reserved only to her personal work, Bulma began to feel increasingly tired. Straightening her back, she realized how stiff it had become stuck in the same position for hours. She turned her wrist over to display her watch and discovered she had worked much longer than she had planned to on the outset. She reached up and pulled the restrictive band from her hair, relaxing as the wonderful smell of her favorite fruit wafted around her from her freed locks. She released a sigh after her hard day of work, which she doubted would be appreciated, and began her journey to the living room to watch television.

When Bulma entered the main hallway, she heard her mom giggling with delight, and she curiously followed the sound to the kitchen. Her mother was seated at the table across from her irritating house guest, who at first glanced did not appear to be loathing the company of her mother. Bulma did a double take as the idea of Vegeta in a good mood overtook her. He seemed relaxed and barely aware of her entrance, which she admitted to be a first on both accounts.

Her mother noticed Bulma though, and shouted, "Oh, hello dear."

Greeting her mother with a smile, she stepped towards the Saiyan and preemptively said, "They're not done. And before you say anything, they will be done when they are done." She said the statement as decisively as possible and braced for the inevitable outrage to billow out of the seated man. Instead, he only looked at her blankly, blinked his eyes slowly and staring at her with a barely visible smile settling on his lips. Utterly confused, Bulma prepared herself for the mental trap to be triggered from the man. She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, waiting for his witty comeback, but he merely looked back at her. His eyes slowly drifted to her recently freed hair and stayed there as if mesmerized by the lock's intense color. Bulma looked to her mother quizzically and noticed the empty, red-stained pitcher on the table. As Bulma formed the question which rested on her tongue, Vegeta rose from his chair and approached the Woman in long powerful strides. She looked at the man approaching her and noted his complete control over movement, but also noted his more open eyes and less crinkled brow. He now stood just before her, perusing her hair and body as if inspecting a new toy. She turned again to her mother and warily asked, "Mom, what did you do?"

Her breath tickled his ear and a tingling sensation spread over his whole body. He sensed the same familiarity that had haunted him earlier and leaned further into the form before him to investigate. He raised his hand slowly and barely touching her, he traced the side of her body. He followed the path of his arm along her body with his eyes absorbing every curve and contour. He faintly heard the noise of a giddy child behind him, but disregarded it for the presence before him. As his hand reached her hair, he allowed his hands to run through the silky mass of tendrils. Bending his head into the blue locks within his grasp, he took deep breathes of the delicious smelling strands.

She could feel the heat pulsating from his body. The strong masculine scent which surrounded her made her feel more like a woman than she had in years. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, and she felt a blush rising to her cheeks. Her breathing stilled, and she felt that they were alone in the room. Each strand of hair he touched shot a jolt electric current to her head, and she found herself captivated by the attractive man in front of her. That is until she heard her mother say, "Oh my." Bulma was quickly released from her trance and took a step back, shocked by the actions of the usually irate Saiyan, and even more by her own reaction. As she moved away from the man, he took a step forward and released a cocky smirk onto his face. She once again fell into the trap that Vegeta's aura produced and found herself looking deeply into his fathomless black eyes. Having never been this close to the unruly Saiyan, she only now released the beauty and intensity of these windows into his soul. Desire and intrigue poured out of them, and she felt her skin melting in response. Her knees began to feel weak. In another effort to escape, she back up further, ran into the kitchen wall and was immediately cornered against it by the intoxicated man. She put her hands up against his chest, attempting to push away his encroachment.

His concentration was broke in response, and his focus was pulled towards her slender fingers pressed against his muscular chest. He then followed the path of her ivory colored arm to the side of her neck. Bending forward and placing his mouth near her neck, he grazed his teeth against her soft, supple skin. He could feel the quick beating of her heart, and he could taste a sweet mixture of fear and arousal. The small woman shivered underneath him, he offered a deep chuckle in return. A low vibration began to emit from his chest and he noted her encouraging reaction in the delirium of excitement. Raising his head again, he watched as she sucked her lower lip. The red tissue was plump and moist, as if expecting and inviting company. He leaned forward to accept the invitation, but was denied when she escaped his grasp.

Seeing him approach her lips, she ducked down, swirled around and quickly backpedaled to the other side of the room. She raised her open palms in defense and chokingly said, "You should go to bed, Vegeta." She stole a quick glance at her mother, who seemed to be engrossed in the show just as if she were watching her favorite soap opera. Accepting that no help would be received from her mother, she turned again to Vegeta to see him confusedly staring at the floor near her feet. She cautiously said, "Aren't you tired?" and heard a soft 'hn' in affirmation. An argument began in her head, wondering if he would require help to his room and whether she should extended that offer. She observed him as he raised his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes tight as if in pain. Worry crept into her mind and she began to favor the idea of assisting him. Stepping closer, she grabbed his arm lightly and said, "Here, let me help you."

With a quick jerk of his arm, he pulled away from her clutch and proudly proclaimed, "I don't need your help, Woman!" A snarl formed on his face and his brow tightened to its normal anger. He turned around and took a few unsteady steps, before gracefully reclaiming his balance and exiting the room quickly.

_Well, I guess he's back_, she thought to herself. Bulma turned to her mother and disapprovingly asked, "How much did you give him to drink? Vegeta is unstable; getting him drunk is _very_ dangerous." She felt as if she were talking to a brick wall, because all her mother did was smile back and give her a wink. Bulma shook her head in annoyance, and asked her more calmly, "Do you think he'll remember?" Bulma dreaded having to face to Saiyan if he did recollect this evening. She imagined shame was not something the proud man would handle well.

Bunny looked at her worried daughter who barely paid attention to her as she giggled cheerfully and said, "I sure hope so…" The idea of grandchildren formed in the older woman's head. She began picturing gifts and decedent birthday parties. An even larger smile formed on her mouth as she began to calculate the season of her grandchild's birth. _He'll fall for her in no time_, the older woman guaranteed to herself.

* * *

Here is the original post that appeared on Maddie-san's live journal:

It started with offerings from the epitome of evil, "The smell wafted over,; he gulped down three. Next, a blur of blue was beside him and a "Mom, what did you do!" tickled his ear. Grabbing the waves of silk, he leaned into the azure form and took deep breaths. It smelled delicious. The small woman shivered underneath him, he offered a deep chuckle in response and knew no more. Listening to the birds chirp nauseatingly the next morning, he decided he would never trust a red drink again.


End file.
